


Finally Know The Difference

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Love, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">Trope Bingo</a>.</p><p>In which Stiles is working at the bar his dad owns and Derek Hale returns to Beacon Hills with a guitar slung over his shoulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally Know The Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Trope: BandAU
> 
> Title from Butch Walker - Going Back/Going Home.
> 
> This was really meant to be short and mostly porn. There's still porn, but in my head have I have backstory and ideas for follow ups. Oops.

“Stiles, I need you to make sure the stage is set up for an acoustic guitar.”

“Dad, it’s planks of wood raised an inch above the bar floor, hardly a stage,” says Stiles, turning around from checking the spirits behind the bar.

“Really, kid?” John glares at his son. “You want to take Erica’s job?”

Stiles glances at where Erica is wiping down tables and shakes his head, “Nope, absolutely not. So. Stage?”

“Stage.”

It’s not that Stiles wouldn’t do Erica’s job. He did do Erica’s job, when his dad first opened the bar, before there was anything near a profit, but he so doesn’t want to go back to that. People are gross, especially when drunk, and the mess they make? No. Stiles never wants to deal with that again and maybe he pulls rank a little now. So, the stage. It’s not what he usually does, Boyd is the guy with all the technical know how, but tonight’s his night off. Stiles didn’t even know his dad had booked anyone in tonight.

Erica calls over to him, “Did you hear who we’ve got in?”

“Dad just said acoustic, why?”

“Derek Hale.”

Stiles gapes at Erica, “What?”

“You heard me,” she smirks. “You need a minute for your boner to go down?”

“Oh my God, shut up. That was years ago,” Stiles busies himself with testing the set up. “Besides, I was a kid, it was high school, it’s not like he’d remember me. Why is he back, anyway?”

“How should I know?”

“Because you know everything.”

“True,” Erica shrugs, throwing the rag over her shoulder. “But I don’t know why he’s back. Boyd said he showed up in town a week ago and started asking if there was a place he could play.”

“Ugh,” Stiles steps off the stage and sinks onto a stool. “Like it’s not enough he was hot during high school, now he plays guitar,” he rubs a hand over his face and groans. “Think my dad will buy it if I suddenly get sick?”

“Considering he’s been able to hear this entire conversation, I doubt it.”

“What?” Stiles spins around on the stool and falls off. He opens his eyes and sees his dad standing over him with a look Stiles has seen way too many times. “Um. Ow?”

“Uh huh,” John shakes his head and helps Stiles up. “Everything working?”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” John pulls some cash from his back pocket and hands it to Stiles. “Run across the street and grab dinner for everyone. And I want fries, not salad.”

“God forbid I try and extend your life,” Stiles mutters. He raises an eyebrow at Erica and nods when she yells over her order of a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

-

Stiles looks up to see Scott perched at the bar, “Hey dude. Bud?”

“Yep.”

“You hanging around to hear our star attraction later?” Stiles pops the cap on the bottle and hands it over.

“Huh?”

“Dad booked Derek Hale tonight.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep,” Stiles says with a minor flail. “Apparently my dad lives to torture me.”

Scott laughs, “Do you seriously think your dad was aware of your giant crush on Derek in high school? And that he booked him tonight specifically because of it? Stiles, step out of the bubble.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Stiles says as he moves down the bar to serve people. “You’re an ass, you know that?” he calls at Scott while he makes a gin & tonic for one of the many, many women who have turned up to see the return of Beacon Hills’ prodigal son.

“I’m your oldest friend.”

“Doesn’t stop you being an ass.”

John comes up behind Stiles and smacks the back of his head, “Don’t be rude to customers.”

“He’s not a customer, he’s Scott. Also, ow,” Stiles rubs his head. “Child abuse.”

“You’re an adult.”

“I’m technically still your child, however old I am.”

“Lucky me.”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles sticks his tongue out at his dad and of course, because this is Stiles’ life, that’s when Derek Hale walks in.

-

Derek’s still stupidly hot, he walked in with a guitar slung over his shoulder, designer stubble across his jaw, and is currently nursing a glass of Jameson at the bar. Stiles is trying not to stare, but Derek’s fingers keep tracing the edge of the glass and Stiles’ mind keeps trailing off in the direction of other ways Derek could use those fingers. How Stiles is going to get through Derek playing tonight is beyond him.

“Stop staring at him,” Erica hisses as she loads empties into the dishwasher. “It’s totally creepy.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You really are,” Erica says as she straightens up. She adjusts her cleavage and smiles at the guy ordering a Guinness.

Stiles sighs and runs a hand through his hair, tugs at the ends before working his way down the bar, wiping up various spills, filling drink orders. He doesn’t dare talk to Derek, the likelihood of Derek remembering him is slim, it’s not like they were friends in high school. Anyway, Derek keeps ignoring anyone who tries to talk to him. Stiles really hopes he’s not some kind of pretentious faux hipster who doesn’t want his pre-show vibe interrupted because that would really ruin Stiles’ fantasies.

Allison signals him and Stiles walks over, grabbing another Bud for Scott and a glass for Allison’s 7 and 7.

“Hey Stiles,” she smiles at him. “How’s the night going?”

“Packed house, looks like word of Derek’s return spread.”

“Yeah,” Allison bites her lip. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Derek?” Stiles tries to wave a hand discreetly down the bar. “Does it look like he’s feeling sociable?”

“It looks like he’s almost finished his drink,” she grins, cheeks dimpling. “Keep the rest,” she says as she hands him a twenty.

“I like you better than Scott,” he calls as she walks away. Stiles glances at Derek and, well, he is about to finish his drink. It’s Stiles’ job to make sure Derek is happy, right? Erica smothers a laugh as he approaches Derek. “Another?” he asks.

Derek nods and pushes the glass towards Stiles.

“Double?”

Derek nods again. Stiles sighs as he grabs the Jameson and thinks about how little his life has changed in the eight years since he last saw Derek. He slides the glass back to Derek and shakes his head when Derek goes to pull out his wallet. “You’re performing, drinks are on the house.”

Derek frowns, “You know who I am?”

“Uh,” Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “I’m Stiles? We went to high school together? I was two years below you, you probably don’t remember.”

“You’re the kid who set off stink bombs in Harris’ office.”

Stiles whips his head round to make sure his father isn’t around, “Shhh. My dad still doesn’t know that was me. In fact,” he narrows his eyes. “How do you know it was me? No one knew it was me, that’s why Harris was so pissed.”

“I saw you sneak inside,” Derek smirks and takes a sip of his drink. “Pretty ballsy for a freshman.”

“So you knew, and you didn’t rat me out? Even when Harris got the school to cancel the end of year dance?”

“Never really cared for dances.”

“Sounds like I owe you a thank you.”

“Sounds like you do,” Derek says evenly, a challenging look in his eyes.

Stiles grins and is about to reply when Erica comes up beside him and flashes a quick smile at Derek. “As adorable as you both are, Stiles, I’m being slammed. Work now, flirt later,” she says, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him down the bar with her. Stiles resists the urge to bury his face in his hands.

-

“Stiles, sound desk,” John says. “I’ll take over the bar.”

“Okay,” Stiles makes his way out from behind the bar and ducks his head next to Derek. “Give me a moment to set this up and then you can go up.”

Derek nods and throws back the last of his drink, reaching for his guitar case. Stiles pauses, watching the line of Derek’s throat as he swallows the Jameson. He shakes his head and walks over to the sound desk at the back of the room. His mind runs through the instructions Boyd had given him a few months ago and checks his set up. Derek steps onstage and looks over at Stiles, Stiles nods and checks the levels as Derek makes sure his guitar is in tune.

Stiles doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until Derek steps up to the microphone and speaks.

“I’m Derek Hale. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in Beacon Hills, and John Stilinski was kind enough to give me a chance to perform tonight,” Derek smirks and runs a hand down the neck of his guitar. “Hopefully I won’t destroy your eardrums.”

Stiles laughs quietly and then - then he’s suckerpunched by Derek’s voice. It’s husky, rough and goes straight to Stiles’ dick. He can see Derek’s fingers moving solidly across the guitar, and he’s pretty sure he’s kind of swooning. Apparently he’s not over his high school crush at all. Stiles glances over at Erica behind the bar and, judging by her dropped jaw, even she’s not immune to Derek’s voice.

Derek finishes up his opening number to a round of applause and a few wolf whistles. Stiles can see the tips of Derek’s ears turning pink and he bites his lip, terrified that he’ll yell something entirely inappropriate at him.

The rest of the set is mostly made up of original numbers, or songs Stiles doesn’t recognise. Either way, they’re good, melancholic without being overly emo; Stiles likes them, likes the way they make him feel. Though that could just be Derek’s voice. Derek throws in a cover of _I Do Not Hook Up_ , which makes Stiles grin, mouthing the words as Derek sings.

Stiles looks around at the room and feels satisfied when he sees how captivated everyone is by Derek. Despite his dad’s admirable effort to only book decent acts, it’s not easy to command the attention of everyone in a loud bar, but Derek seems to have done it.

“This will be my last song,” Derek says. “Thanks for listening.”

John comes up behind Stiles. “He’s good, right?” he says in a low voice.

Stiles nods, unable to tear his eyes away from Derek.

“Think I’ll ask him to do a regular set every couple of weeks if he wants.”

“He’s sticking around?” Stiles asks, turning his head to stare at his dad.

“Said he was when I booked him, why?”

Stiles shrugs, “Just figured it was a flying visit. People don’t come back here once they’ve left.”

“Guess Derek’s the exception.”

-

Much to Stiles’ surprise, Derek sticks around after he gets offstage. He’d pretty much expected Derek to leave as soon as he’d packed his guitar away, but he’s at the bar by the time Stiles makes it back over.

“Jameson again?” Stiles asks.

“Just water,” Derek says, his voice slightly hoarse. “Thanks.”

Stiles hands over a bottle and adjusts his eyes from the motion of Derek’s throat as he sucks down big gulps of water. It’s distracting at the very least. He catches Scott’s eye at the bar and rolls his eyes when Scott taps his watch. “You sticking around?” he asks Derek.

“You want me to?” Derek asks with a slow smile.

“You’re good company,” Stiles says. “Back in a moment.”

“So,” Scott says when Stiles approaches. “You and your teenage crush hitting it off?”

“Shut up, or I’m cutting you off.”

“Dude, that’s such an abuse of power,” Scott whines. “Anyway, I’m driving so I’m switching to soda.”

“Allison want another 7 and 7?”

“Yep,” Scott nods, fiddling with a beer mat. “He’s talented.”

“Derek? Yeah, he seriously is,” Stiles says as he mixes Allison’s drink. “No idea why he came back here, though. Voice like that, he could make it big.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be famous.”

“I guess,” Stiles shrugs. “You staying?”

Scott shakes his head, “We’ve got brunch with Allison’s dad tomorrow.”

“That why you’re the sober one tonight?” Stiles says with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Scott winces. “Last time I turned up hungover, he took me to the shooting range. I had a headache for days, Stiles, days.”

“You guys have been together forever, think you’ll ever win him over?”

“Not unless I take up hunting.”

“You work at an animal clinic.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “He doesn’t like that either.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“It happens,” Scott glances down the bar. “Looks like your family brunches won’t be so awkward,” he says with a sly smile.

“What?” Stiles follows where Scott is looking and groans when he sees his dad and Derek talking. “Oh my God, seriously?”

Scott pats Stiles’ forearm in sympathy, “If I don’t see you before we leave, you’re still coming for dinner Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles says, chewing his bottom lip as he watches his dad. “Did he just say swimming pool?”

“Uh.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“It’s your dad, Stiles.”

“Oh crap,” Stiles rushes down the bar and stands next to his dad, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Dad, hey, what are you two talking about?”

Derek smirks, “Your dad was telling me about the swimming pool when you were eight.”

“Dad, seriously?”

“What?”

“I’m your only son, why must you insist on telling people about that? It makes you a horrible father, and also? Mean.”

John laughs and looks at Derek, “He was so insistant he was ready to wear grown up shorts. His mom tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Next thing you know, the shorts are floating in the pool and Stiles is trying to climb out of the pool without flashing anyone.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles groans, his cheeks flushing. “Okay, I’m going to go over there and serve people and, you know, pretend I don’t have a father.”

-

Erica lifts the bell from beside the cash register and rings it. “Last call,” she yells with a wink at Stiles. It’s her favourite part of the night and Stiles doesn’t mind leaving it to her, he’s had so many headaches from ringing that bell he once told his dad he needed hazard pay.

There’s not that many people left, and his dad has already started confiscating car keys from the ones without a designated driver. The whole town knows that you don’t come to the ex-Sheriff’s bar and expect to be allowed to drive home drunk, so there aren’t any arguments. Stiles sighs and grabs the phone, starts dialling the local cab company.

“Hi, it’s Stiles. We need five cabs at the bar tonight. Yeah, five. Thanks Greenberg,” he ends the call and looks around. Erica’s serving the couple of people still drinking and Derek - Derek’s still sitting at the bar and looking at him. Huh. Stiles grins and walks over. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Derek says, twirling an empty water bottle in his hands. “So, last call?”

“Yep.”

“You sleep above the bar?”

“No, my dad does,” Stiles shrugs. “I’ve got an apartment a few streets away.”

“Huh,” Derek says, leaning in slightly.

“So, what other stories did my ex-father tell you?”

Derek ducks his head, “Uh, he happened to mention you never missed a lacrosse game when I was playing.”

The tips of Derek’s ears are pink again and Stiles knows his cheeks are flushing. “Uh, well,” he stammers. “I didn’t realise he knew that.”

“So it’s true?” Derek asks as he looks up.

Stiles nods and looks away. “Wow, okay, and I thought it couldn’t get more embarrassing than the swimming pool story.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s hand shoots out and grasps Stiles’ forearm. “Don’t. I mean -” Derek breaks off and makes a frustrated noise. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Maybe from where you’re sitting. Where I’m sitting, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing.”

“No, I mean. I noticed you too.”

“What?” Stiles says.

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“Because you were older, the big jock captain of the lacrosse team. I was the kid pranking teachers and not getting invited to parties because of who my dad was. No one liked me in high school, dude. Except Scott, but once you’ve eaten worms together, you’re kind of stuck with each other.”

Derek shrugs, “I liked you.”

“Yeah, okay. It really showed with how you totally ignored me the whole time you were there.”

“Stiles, you were two years younger than me,” Derek looks regretful. “It’s not a big deal now, but when we were kids? Yeah, it mattered and - I knew I’d be leaving before you did. Didn’t like the idea of leaving someone behind when I did.”

Stiles nods, looks down at where Derek’s hand is still resting on his forearm. Derek’s hand is a solid block of heat against his skin and all it does is make him _want_. “Oh,” he says. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Why would you?” Derek says with an easy smile.

Stiles smiles back and glances around the bar. Almost everyone has left and his dad is giving him the “I’ll close up” look. Erica’s just smirking to herself as she loads up the dishwasher and, okay, that’s justified. Stiles turns back to Derek. “My dad’s going to close up. Do you - and believe me, I know how this sounds - want to come back to my apartment?”

Derek nods and stands up, taking his hand off Stiles’ arm, “Sounds good.”

“Okay, great. I’ll grab my jacket.”

-

Stiles stops in the hallway and opens the door to his apartment, ushering Derek in ahead of him.

“It’s nice,” Derek says, examining a poster on the wall.

“I don’t need much,” Stiles says, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door and shrugging off his jacket. He throws it on the armchair he inherited from his dad and gestures for Derek to do the same. Derek props his guitar case up against the chair and slips his jacket off. Stiles watches Derek’s body move under his thin t shirt and coughs. “I’m just going to - grab some beers.” He takes the few steps into the kitchen and sticks his head in the fridge, closing his eyes and breathing in for a moment before taking two beers and straightening up.

Derek’s standing right behind him and Stiles sucks in a breath when he feels Derek’s fingers skating against his arms. He turns round, bottles still in hand, Derek’s hands slipping down to rest on Stiles’ hips. Derek’s tapping out a steady rhythm with his fingers as he leans in, Stiles can still smell the remnants of whiskey on his breath, and then Derek’s kissing him, his lips a soft, unrelenting pressure. Stiles resists the urge to drop the bottles and pull Derek closer. He whines and chases Derek’s lips when he pulls away, opens his eyes to see Derek’s soft smile.

“Sorry,” Derek says quietly, stepping back.

Stiles swallows, “For what?” He turns around and pops the tops off the beers. “Because if you’re going to apologise for kissing me, I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t. Unless you’re regretting it,” he says as he turns to face Derek. “And I kind of hope you aren’t.”

Derek takes the beer and nods, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Stiles smirks. “Couch?” He takes Derek’s hand and leads him over to the couch, enjoying the warmth of Derek’s skin against his. Stiles knows his relationship history isn’t great; one night stands and a three month relationship that eventually went nowhere when he realised Stiles was happy in Beacon Hills and not willing to move. If Derek was anyone other than _Derek_ , Stiles would have him pantsless by now, shoved against the wall with his cock down Stiles’ throat, but - he knows Derek. Kind of. Used to know Derek. Wants to know Derek. And as much as he wants Derek’s cock in his mouth, for the first time in his life he also wants more than that.

Stiles sits back and lets his legs fall open, his thigh lining up against Derek’s leg. “Why’d you come back?”

“To Beacon Hills?”

“No, to Earth.”

“Cute,” Derek smirks. “I went to LA after college. Thought maybe I could make something of myself,” he swigs his beer and shakes his head. “Ended up getting screwed by an exec. Literally. I trusted her, which was stupid. Didn’t check my contract, lost the rights to the songs I’d recorded. Slept on a friend’s sofa for six months before I came back here.”

“Wow. That’s - wow.”

“Yeah. That’s the side they don’t tell wide eyed kids about,” Derek says wryly. “What about you? I thought you’d leave Beacon Hills for sure.”

“Me?” Stiles’ eyes widen and he fiddles with the label on his beer. “No, I - I guess I could’ve left? There were scholarship offers, but - everyone always told me how smart I was, and that was true, but honestly? Not that fond of the book learning. I like knowing things, but, like, weird shit. I’m not that great at sticking to one subject.”

Derek shrugs, “There’s no shame in not going to college. The only thing I learnt my first year was how to do a keg stand properly.”

“You? That’s quite an image,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “Hey, I never saw you with a guitar in high school, when did you start playing?”

“I played in high school, just not around people. My uncle bought me a guitar when I was twelve, didn’t pick it up until I was fifteen. Wrote some truly awful songs,” Derek ducks his head to hide a smile. “But I stuck with it, fell in love it with, and I had a family that encouraged me. How’d you end up at the bar?”

“Pretty simple, my dad retired, I was doing freelance computer shit, trying not to grow up. One of his old deputies told him about a bar they were going to raid and shut down, he decided to buy it,” Stiles bites his lip. “He sold the house to buy it. We - I was, uh, not happy about that.”

“Why?”

Stiles looks at Derek and shakes his head. “Little heavy for a first almost date.”

“If you want to tell me, I don’t mind hearing,” Derek says, his face open, caring.

Stiles isn’t exactly used to this kind of thing from people he brings home and he’s thrown for a moment before realising that it’s Derek, and that he wants Derek to know this stuff. “Uh, my mom. She died when I was a kid. That house -”

“Was all you had left,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” Stiles coughs around the lump in his throat. “So, we obviously got past that, I started working at the bar to help out until he started turning a profit and I kinda stuck around.”

“You guys are okay now, though? It seemed like you got on okay at the bar.”

“No, yeah, we’re good. It was just hard. Neither of us dealt with mom dying, so it all came up when he decided to sell. All her things were still in the house - it wasn’t easy,” Stiles points at a standing lamp in the corner of the room. “That was hers.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. There used to be a huge bean bag chair underneath it in the house, it’s where she taught me how to read,” Stiles glances at Derek. “And, I think I just made this night seriously depressing, sorry.”

The corners of Derek’s mouth twitch and he shrugs. “Hey, I asked,” he says, stretching an arm out and resting a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck. “I like hearing about you.”

“Same - about you, I mean,” Stiles groans when Derek gently presses his fingers at the base of Stiles’ neck. “Oh, shit.” Stiles shivers, totally impressed that Derek has managed to find what he used to call his ‘instant boner zone’. He’d been 17, it was funny at the time. Less funny now, but he at least has more control over himself now than he did when he was a teenager.

Derek hums and leans over, buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs. “Don’t see that happening.”

“Good,” Derek says as he sucks a mark on Stiles’ neck, scraping his teeth against the skin lightly.

Stiles’ head drops back and he groans when Derek licks a stripe up his neck. He grins when Derek pulls back a little and he climbs onto Derek’s leg, one leg bent underneath him, the other on the floor. Derek hisses when Stiles shoves a hand up his t shirt, running his fingers along the warm skin. Stiles bites his lip, scratches his blunt nails across Derek’s abs and stares at Derek’s throat when he throws his head back, a quiet “Stiles” escaping from his mouth. Derek’s skin is flushed and he looks like the best kind of sin. Stiles ducks his head and licks at the bottom of Derek’s throat, making Derek whine.

Derek’s hands come up around Stiles’ waist, holding him in place, and he nudges at Stiles’ face until their mouths meet. Stiles sighs into the kiss, one hand twisted in Derek’s hair, the other still underneath Derek’s t shirt. He pushes the t shirt up higher and higher until Derek gets the message and pulls back far enough to yank it off with one hand. Stiles grins and runs his hands down Derek’s chest, lowers his head and flicks his tongue over Derek’s nipple. Derek’s hand gripping the back of Stiles’ neck as Stiles licks and kisses his way down Derek’s chest. He slips onto the floor and palms a hand over Derek’s crotch.

“Fuck, Stiles.”

“We’ll get to that,” Stiles smirks, placing his lips against the skin above Derek’s belt buckle. “You want my mouth?”

Derek gazes down at Stiles and rubs his thumb against Stiles’ bottom lip. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, take your pants off.”

“Romantic,” Derek smirks as he stands up and undoes his belt.

Stiles kneels on the floor and watches Derek slide his jeans down his thighs, laughing lightly when they get tangled with Derek’s boots. He gently pushes Derek back down on the couch and loosens the laces on Derek’s boots, pulls them off and throws them in a corner. The tips of Derek’s ears are red and Stiles rubs the inside of Derek’s thigh reassuringly. Derek bends over, rids himself of his socks and jeans and sits back, legs spread, bulge obvious in his black boxer briefs. Stiles instinctively licks his lips and he shuffles forward on his knees, narrowly avoiding face-planting in Derek’s crotch.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles says as he runs his fingers across the outline of Derek’s dick. He mouths against the fabric, dragging his tongue over the head. His hand drifts above the waistband, stroking the skin until Derek whines. Stiles lifts his head and hooks his fingers in Derek’s boxer briefs, raising his eyebrows. “Off?”” he asks, grinning when Derek nods quickly.

Derek lifts his hips as Stiles yanks the last bit of clothing off Derek’s body. He swallows hard when he looks at Derek, acres of smooth skin that he wants to put his mouth all over. Derek’s legs are spread wide, his hand lazily fondling his cock and Stiles wants _everything_. He leans forward and pushes Derek’s hand away. “I want -” he says before licking a stripe up Derek’s cock. “Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, his hands resting on Derek’s thighs.

Stiles takes his time, Derek is all spread out for him, his bare ass slipping down the couch, and it’s the hottest sight Stiles has ever seen. Derek hisses when Stiles ducks his head and sucks lightly at Derek’s balls before licking at the crease between his thigh and groin.

“Tease,” Derek bites out.

Stiles grips Derek’s cock with one hand and drags his tongue slowly up the shaft. He tilts his head back and grins at Derek, “You have no idea.”

Derek stretches a hand out and strokes a thumb against Stiles’ cheekbone, sticking two fingers in Stiles’ mouth. His eyes darken as Stiles swirls his tongue around them. “Fucking tease,” Derek says as Stiles sucks at his fingers, his cheeks hollowing. Stiles grins when Derek removes his fingers. Derek looks wrecked already and Stiles loves it. He’s not the same kid he was when he was crushing on Derek in high school, Stiles has learnt a lot since then, not least how to take a man apart and he wants to use it all on Derek, wants Derek to be a writhing, sweaty mess beneath him. Stiles circles his fingers around the base of Derek’s cock and hovers his mouth over the head, eyes flicking up to glance at Derek.

“Stiles, please,” Derek chokes out, his bottom lip red.

Stiles places open mouthed kisses down Derek’s cock, savouring the little noises escaping from Derek’s mouth. He teasingly mouths around the head of Derek’s cock, waits until he hears Derek whine with frustration. Stiles looks up and aims a wicked grin at Derek before taking him into his mouth. He lets his mouth get sloppy, spit sliding down Derek’s cock until it hits Stiles’ fingers. Derek groans and Stiles gets lost in the heavy weight of Derek against his tongue, of Derek’s scent surrounding him. He scratches his nails against Derek’s inner thigh, swirls his tongue around the head of Derek’s cock and enjoys the way Derek’s breathing gets more ragged whenever he flattens his tongue against the head.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek tugs at Stiles’ hair. “Gonna - shit,” Derek groans and comes in Stiles’ mouth, his head thrown back.

Stiles swallows as much as he can, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up, wincing as he straightens his knees. Derek’s splayed out on the sofa, his chest rising and falling heavily, his skin damp with sweat. His legs are still stretched out, there’s a bead of sweat trailing down Derek’s stomach towards his groin and Stiles wants to lick it. So he does, licking up Derek’s chest until he reaches his neck. Stiles sucks a mark against Derek’s neck, leaning over him, his hands braced on the couch.

Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles when he detaches his mouth from Derek’s neck. “You’re good at that,” he says with a grin, grabbing at Stiles’ body. He pulls him onto his lap and kisses him deeply, one hand reaching to squeeze lightly at Stiles’ still covered crotch. “What do you want?” Derek asks when Stiles gasps against his mouth.

“You,” Stiles says.

“Any part of me in particular?”

Stiles slides his hands down Derek’s back and grabs at as much of Derek’s ass as he can. He smirks as Derek swears softly before he nips at Stiles’ bottom lip. “I’m guessing you’re okay with that?” he says quietly before he captures Derek’s mouth again.

-

Derek’s spread out on his sheets and Stiles isn’t quite sure how they made it to the bedroom. He’s lying there, limbs stretched out, watching every movement Stiles makes as he strips his clothes off. Stiles stands at the end of the bed for a moment, staring at Derek. He shakes himself out of it when Derek makes a questioning noise, and shoves his boxers down, joining Derek on the bed. Derek clutches at Stiles’ skin, greedily running his hands all over him, nipping at Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles gasps when his cock slides against Derek’s skin, forces himself to sit back on Derek’s legs because he doesn’t want this to be over before he gets inside Derek.

“You good?” Derek asks.

“Too good,” Stiles grins, ducking down to kiss him. He leans over and opens the top drawer of his bedside table, fumbles around until he grabs lube and a condom that he leaves next to the lamp. Stiles hums happily as he wriggles down the bed, pushing Derek’s legs up until his feet are braced on the bed. “Yeah,” Stiles breathes out as he coats his fingers with lube, eyes fixed on Derek’s face.

“Go slow,” Derek says when Stiles presses a finger against his hole. “Been a while.”

Stiles nods, a wicked smirk on his face, “I can do that.” He lightly traces patterns with his finger, kisses the inside of Derek’s thigh and grins against Derek’s skin when he hears him swearing softly.

“Jesus, Stiles, I’m not going to break,” Derek bites out.

Stiles lifts his head and meets Derek’s eyes with an innocent smile, “I thought you wanted me to go slow.”

Derek laughs, his head falling back on the pillow. He reaches a hand out and Stiles grasps it with his free hand, brings it to his mouth and kisses the callouses on his fingers as Derek watches him with wide eyes.

“I got you,” Stiles says, dropping Derek’s hand. He slowly inches a finger inside Derek, watching Derek’s body react as he gets used to it. Stiles licks his lips when Derek nods at him, asks for another. It’s been a while for Stiles as well, and it’s been forever since sex has actually meant something more than just getting off. He gives Derek another finger, slowly, torturously, wanting to drag this out for as long as possible. Derek whines when Stiles crooks his fingers and he can’t resist the urge to climb up Derek’s body, his fingers still buried inside Derek. He lets Derek control the kiss, his large, rough hands cradling Stiles’ face as he curls his body up to meet him. Stiles sighs when Derek pulls away, his head hitting the pillow, and he latches onto Derek’s chest, biting down gently as he works his fingers in and out of Derek.

Derek whimpers when Stiles’ fingers slip out of him and Stiles eyes Derek’s half hard cock. He wraps his lube covered hand around it and strokes Derek to full hardness. Derek’s squirming now, the sheets a twisted mess beneath him. “Fuck, you look good like that,” Stiles says as he goes back to playing with Derek’s ass. He slides three fingers inside Derek and glances up to see Derek’s eyes close, his mouth dropping open in a silent cry, Stiles thinks he looks fucking gorgeous and tells him as much. Stiles watches Derek’s face as he thrusts his fingers in and out of Derek, groans when Derek bites his bottom lip until it’s red and swollen, giving Stiles the urge to suck on it. He removes his fingers and gently bites the inside of Derek’s thigh, licking over the mark he leaves behind.

“I need in you, now,” he says, squeezing his cock at the base in an attempt to control himself. He’s been paying so much attention to Derek, he’s only just realised how painfully hard he is, how he needs to get off right the fuck now.

Derek nods and grabs the condom from the bedside table. “Can I?” he asks, eyes drifting towards Stiles’ cock.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He gasps at the touch of Derek’s hand on his cock, stops himself from thrusting up and grits his teeth as Derek rolls the condom on him, reaches for the lube and slicks Stiles’ length. Stiles grabs Derek by the wrist the second time he goes to stroke Stiles’s cock, “If you keep doing that, this whole me fucking you thing won’t happen.”

Derek lets go obediently and presses his open mouth against Stiles’ in a filthy kiss, tongues sliding together. He licks Stiles’ cheek and rests his mouth against Stiles’ jaw before placing a chaste kiss there and lying back on the bed. A part of Stiles wants to touch his jaw because that kiss told him more than anything else that this wasn’t just one night for Derek, that they could try and make something of this. But Derek’s sprawling on the bed with his legs hitched up and Stiles - well, he can be sentimental later.

Stiles crawls towards Derek on his knees, and bites his lip as he lines himself up against Derek’s hole and pushes in slowly. Derek’s legs scramble around Stiles’ body as he tilts his hips up, groaning as Stiles inches in. Stiles rubs Derek’s leg and swears as he feels Derek tighten around him. Derek’s mouth is open, gorgeous sounds spilling out and it takes all Stiles has not to come right there. He’s so on edge that anything could set him off, hasn’t felt this way since he was a teenager, since he spotted Derek shirtless and sweaty after lacrosse practice heading to the showers. Stiles quickly puts that image out of his head as he concentrates on the Derek he has beneath him, on the moan Derek lets out when Stiles bottoms out.

They both stay still for a moment, Stiles would swear he can feel the air crackle, and then Derek grunts out, “Fucking move,” and Stiles laughs, grins widely and starts to thrust into Derek. He rolls his hips when Derek gets impatient, stretches out above Derek and holds his wrists down, enjoying the way Derek tries to glare at him, failing when Stiles kisses whatever skin he can reach. Stiles tries to keep a rhythm, but he’s so desperate, so overwhelmed by the feel of Derek, that he’s pretty sure he’s not successful. Derek doesn’t seem to mind, meeting each one of Stiles’ thrusts with a groan, curling up to pull Stiles down to him, mouths colliding in messy kisses. Stiles gasps when he feels the familiar tightening in his balls, falls forward and pushes himself into Derek again and again until he’s coming, his mouth open against Derek’s neck.

“Holy shit,” Stiles mutters against the warm skin. He attempts to push up, but his entire body feels like jelly. Derek’s breathing heavy against his ear, one hand in Stiles’ hair, the other limply resting against his spine. Stiles can feel Derek’s dick trapped between them, still hard, and it’s that which gets him to move. He slides his body up and off Derek and carefully pulls out, tying the condom off. Derek doesn’t move, his eyes only half open as Stiles climbs off the bed and ditches the condom in the trash.

Stiles curls up next to Derek, rests his head on Derek’s shoulder and lazily strokes Derek’s cock. Derek turns his head, dislodging Stiles and meets Stiles’ eyes as he blindly wraps his hand around where Stiles’ hand is working his cock. Stiles lets Derek show him what he likes, enjoys the slick, soft skin beneath his hand and the calloused fingers guiding him. Derek lets out these little groans whenever Stiles squeezes below the head, twitches when Stiles traces his abs with his free hand. He swallows hard when Stiles kisses his face, and when Stiles bites down on his jaw, he comes with a loud shout, one hand fisted in the sheets.

“So,” Stiles says as Derek regains his breath. “Biting is a thing for you. Good to know.”

“You’re a thing for me,” Derek says, loosening his grip on Stiles’ hand where it’s still wrapped around his cock. He grimaces at the mess and wipes his hand on Stiles’ chest, grinning when Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

“Is this your way of saying we should shower together?” Stiles says with a smirk. “Because really, all you had to do was ask.”

“Yeah?” Derek says, crowding against Stiles, pushing him into the bed.

Stiles opens his mouth to reply, but his words get swallowed by Derek’s mouth on his. It’s a lazy, slow kiss and Stiles could drown in Derek like this, tangling their legs together, running his hands down the warm, solid muscle of Derek’s back. He knows he’s falling too fast, too early, but it’s _Derek_ , he has Derek in his bed, and he’s past caring about being sensible.

Derek’s the first to get off the bed, climbing off Stiles and smiling when Stiles pouts at the lack of Derek against him. He holds out his hands and laughs when Derek drags him up. They stumble to the bathroom together, sneaking in gropes and kisses along the way. Stiles turns the shower on and steps under the spray, turns around and gestures for Derek to join him.

“Hi,” Derek says, grazing his hands across Stiles’ skin.

Stiles hums and lets his head drop onto Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s hands knead at Stiles’ back, fingers digging into the muscles making Stiles groan. He slumps against Derek, the water rushing over them, and loses himself in the feel of Derek’s hands on his body. “Oh,” he says when Derek’s hands end up on his ass.

“This okay?” Derek asks.

“Fuck yes,” Stiles says as Derek turns him round. He grips the edge of the shower door and sucks in a breath when Derek’s lips start to kiss a trail down his back. Derek licks, sucking marks at random points until he reaches Stiles’ ass. Stiles whines when Derek parts his cheeks, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the glass door as Derek licks a stripe over his hole. “Oh my God,” he yelps as Derek holds him open, his tongue diving in over and over again. Stiles can feel his cock stirring, lets out a whine when Derek pulls back, only to laugh when Derek rubs his stubble against his ass. “Dick,” he grins.

“Not quite,” Derek says as he places an open mouthed kiss against Stiles’ hole before working the tip of his finger in alongside his tongue.

“Oh holy fucking - shit, Derek,” Stiles gasps. He takes one hand off the shower door and grips his cock, moving his hand in tandem with Derek’s actions. Stiles tips his head back and groans as he jerks himself, unable to decide whether to thrust forward into his hand, or backwards against Derek’s face. Derek’s stubble rasps against Stiles’ skin as he works his tongue in as deep as it can go and Stiles can’t help the desperate sob that escapes his lips as he comes so hard his vision whites out. When he blinks, he’s almost surprised to find himself still upright. Derek’s plastered against his back, arms wrapped around Stiles’ body and, oh, that explains it. He moans when Derek bites down on his neck and swats a hand at the arms encircling him, “Nope, tired. No more orgasms tonight.”

Derek laughs, a rumbling comfort against Stiles’ back. He kisses Stiles’ neck and gently wipes the come from Stiles’ stomach.

“Mmm,” Stiles mumbles. “Bed now.”

When they make it back to the bedroom, Stiles takes one look at the mess the bed is in and sighs, glancing at Derek. “Want to sleep on the floor?”

“Come on,” Derek tugs at Stiles’ hand and sits on the bed. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

Stiles nods and stands between Derek’s legs, running his hands through Derek’s hair when he rests his head against Stiles’ stomach. Somehow they make it onto the bed, Derek dragging a blanket over them. Stiles curls up against Derek, he lifts his hand and traces the contours of Derek’s face, smiling when Derek tries to follow his fingers with his eyes. He can feel exhaustion taking him over, but he stubbornly doesn’t want to go to sleep, wants to stay awake and stare at Derek for hours yet.

“Stiles,” Derek murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know.”

“So can we go to sleep?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles says, his mouth dropping open in a yawn. Derek rubs his thumb against Stiles’ bottom lip before rolling onto his back. Stiles shuffles closer, loops an arm around Derek’s waist and flings a leg over Derek’s body. He’s asleep before he registers Derek’s fingers stroking his arm.

-

Stiles stretches and flings an arm out, hitting something solid that yelps. He blinks his eyes open and winces when he sees Derek rubbing his forehead. “Um, sorry?” he says.

Derek grunts and slumps down under the blankets, his eyes still closed. Stiles smiles and leans over, places kisses against Derek’s face, an open mouthed one where he thinks he hit him. He works his way down and rests his lips against Derek’s mouth. “Morning,” he whispers. “Sorry for hitting you.”

“How sorry?” Derek asks, opening one eye.

Stiles lifts his head and smirks at Derek, “Very sorry.”

“Uh huh,” Derek tugs Stiles on top of him, shoving the blankets out of the way so that they’re skin on skin. “Sorry enough to tell me how many times you jerked off in high school thinking about me?”

“How do you know I thought about you?” Stiles says, his cheeks flushing.

“Because I thought about you,” Derek says, brushing his nose against Stiles’. “A lot.”

“That’s...kind of hot,” Stiles grins. He wriggles and tucks his head under Derek’s chin. “Have you got plans today?”

“I’ve got to see my sister later -”

“Laura?”

“Yeah, you remember her?”

Stiles nods, tracing patterns on Derek’s arm with his fingers. “She came to your lacrosse games, had a big sign that called you Der-Bear.”

“I’d actually tried to block that memory out, but the horror just came screaming back,” Derek grumbles.

“It was cute, shut up. Your whole family came out for your games, I was pretty jealous.”

“Why?”

Stiles shrugs, “It was just me and my dad. Even when I ran track, he could only make some of the meets. Scott would join him, but it wasn’t the same.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head.

“Don’t be. I love my dad, and even when my mom was alive, it’s not like we had a bunch of extra relatives turning up. Just sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a large family.”

Derek traces a hand up and down Stiles’ back absentmindedly. “You should come with me.”

“Okay, where?”

“To meet my sister for dinner. Today.”

“Um.”

“You don’t have to,” Derek says quickly.

“No, no, I want to. I’ll call Danny, see if he can cover my shift at the bar tonight,” Stiles says, squeezing Derek’s hand. “He owes me.” Derek makes a happy noise and scratches his blunt nails against the base of Stiles’ neck. Stiles shivers before he pushes himself up and sits back on Derek’s thighs. “As much as I want that, I have to call Danny and we both need to brush our teeth.” Derek smirks, pulls himself up and breathes into Stiles’ face. Stiles glares at him, “I don’t know why I like you, I really don’t.”

-

It was well past noon, but Derek insisted on making breakfast. Stiles sits on the couch, watching Derek make omelettes out of whatever he found in Stiles’ fridge. It was impressive, considering Stiles has no idea when he last went to the grocery store. His eyes track Derek in front of the stove, he’s in a borrowed pair of sweatpants so old that they hang off Derek’s hips, revealing more skin each time he moves.

Stiles licks his lips and grabs his phone, flicking through to Danny’s name. “Hey,” he says when Danny answers.

“Stiles. What do you want?”

“Why do you assume I want anything, can’t I just be calling to talk?”

“Except you never do that.”

Stiles sighs, “Okay, fine. Cover my shift tonight?”

“Stiles, it’s Saturday night. Why?”

“You need a reason? You owe me for the thing with the guy last month, remember?”

“Does this have to do with Derek Hale?”

“Why would you - what?” Stiles says.

“That’s my answer, then.”

Stiles can practically hear Danny smirking down the phone. “Fine, yes, it does,” he groans. “Come on, Danny, take the shift.”

“Not that I care, but answer me one thing.”

“Okay.”

“Are you just extending a one night stand, or is this you finally getting what you’ve wanted since freshman year?”

“The second one,” Stiles mumbles.

“Huh. Fine, I’ll take your shift.”

Danny hangs up and Stiles shakes his head, letting his phone drop on the cushion beside him. Of course Danny already knew about him and Derek, of course.

“Food’s ready,” Derek calls over, setting two plates on the breakfast bar. Stiles joins Derek, sliding onto a stool next to him. Derek hooks his ankle around Stiles’ and nudges him with his shoulder. “You have to go grocery shopping,” he says. “There’s things in there I didn’t even want to open.”

“Wimp,” Stiles says through a mouthful of omelette. “I don’t eat here that much.”

“You eat at the bar?”

Stiles nods, “There’s a diner nearby that does decent food, I have dinner with Scott & Allison sometimes, and have a standing date with my Dad every other Sunday. This place, it’s just somewhere to sleep.”

“Not a home?”

“Haven’t had that since my dad sold the house,” Stiles says.

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he presses his thigh against Stiles’ leg and kisses his temple softly. Stiles leans into him, feeling his body relax as soon as his skin hits Derek’s side. He stays sitting while Derek cleans up, turns around on the stool and whistles when Derek bends over to put the eggs back in the fridge. The tips of Derek’s ears go red, Stiles jumps off the stool and pushes him back against the counter, kissing him softly. Derek tastes of coffee and mushrooms and _home_. His hands rest against Stiles’ hips, fingers stroking his lower back and Stiles winds his arms around Derek’s neck, hands burying themselves in his hair.

-

They spend the rest of the afternoon on the couch, watching _Archer_ on Netflix, lazily making out and exchanging stories.

“Did you have friends there, in LA?” Stiles asks.

“I wasn’t totally alone, Stiles. Isaac was a good friend, I slept on his couch while I licked my wounds,” Derek says, his fingers sketching out invisible patterns on Stiles’ back. “Him and his girlfriend kept me from ending up in rehab.”

“It was that bad?”

Derek sighs, “I thought I’d lost everything. My songs, the girl I thought I loved - I got self destructive. Isaac hauled me out of a mess, I owe him for that.”

“When did you decide to come back?”

“Laura called me,” Derek says with a wry smile on his face. “Told me she’d kick my ass if I spent any longer wallowing.”

“Guess I should thank her for that.”

“Why?”

“Because, if she hadn’t done that, you might not’ve come back,” Stiles says. “And we wouldn’t have this.”

Derek kisses the base of Stiles’ throat before letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch. “So you’re glad I’m back, then?”

“No, last night was a lie, I can’t stand you,” Stiles says with a straight face.

“Ass,” Derek laughs, smacking him lightly on the thigh.

Stiles smiles down at him and runs a hand through Derek’s hair, tugging lightly. “Obviously I’m happy you’re back, and that you’re staying. Are you?”

“Leaving LA was hard, especially with nothing to show for it. I’d gone away to be this big success and I just got screwed, had to come home with my tail between my legs.”

“But?”

“But I was lucky, I have my family and I can still play music the way I want to,” he says, cupping Stiles’ face with one hand. “And you.”

“You can definitely play me the way you want to,” Stiles says, laughing at the way Derek tries to glare at him, kissing the slight pout on Derek’s lips. He deepens the kiss when Derek opens his mouth, loses himself in the taste of Derek. “Yeah, you can play me any time.”

“Such a freak,” Derek mutters fondly.

“What are you - I mean, I know your family has money, but -”

“I have a publishing deal signed, a good one, not like before, so my songs still end up out there, I just don’t sing them.”

Stiles sits up on Derek, his knees either side of Derek’s thighs, “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Have any of the songs been, like, hits?”

“A few.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, “But you’re not going to tell me which ones?”

“Why do you want to know?” Derek links his hands with Stiles’ and pulls Stiles back down against him.

“Because I like knowing things about you, always have done.”

-

“Hey dad,” Stiles answers his phone with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Why is Danny covering your shift?”

“Oh crap.”

“Stiles?”

“I made plans with Derek and his sister, so I asked Danny. He owes me from that dude with the thing, remember?”

“Right. Bring Derek on Sunday.”

“Um, okay,” Stiles says, slightly confused.

“If you’re meeting his family, he’s meeting yours.”

“What joy,” Stiles says, eyes following Derek as he slides his jeans on. “I’ll ask him.”

“Good. Love you kid.”

“Love you too, dad,” Stiles hangs up and looks over at Derek. “Where are we meeting your sister? Oh, and you’re coming to dinner on Sunday with my dad.”

Derek looks up and shrugs, “Okay. Hey, can I borrow a t shirt?”

“Uh, yeah. Top drawer,” Stiles sits on the bed and pulls a pair of socks on. “So you’re okay with having dinner with my dad?”

“You’re having dinner with my sister,” Derek says, tugging on a plain black t shirt, faded from over washing. “It’s only fair I get to hear stories about you.”

Stiles walks over to Derek and kisses him, running his hands up Derek’s back, underneath the borrowed t shirt. He maps the planes of muscle with his fingers, digging in as Derek opens his mouth, pulls Stiles closer to him.

“We’re going to be late,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ lips when they break apart. “And you still need to get dressed.”

Stiles looks down between them and realises he’s only dressed in boxers and socks, “I’m guessing this isn’t appropriate for meeting your sister?”

“Not unless you want me to blow you in the middle of dinner,” Derek smirks.

“You can’t _say_ that if you want us to get out of here on time,” Stiles whines.

Derek throws Stiles’ pants at him, “Get dressed and I’ll blow you when we get back.”

-

Laura’s eyes light up when Stiles mentions the signs she used to wave at Derek’s lacrosse games. Stiles kisses Derek’s cheek in apology when she starts talking about the stuffed rabbit Derek carried around as a child, but can’t help the laugh that escapes when Laura tells him about Derek’s childhood love of N’Sync.

“That was your fault, Laura,” Derek mutters. “You forced me to dance to their stupid songs.”

“Aw, Der, are you really trying to tell me that ‘Bye Bye Bye’ didn’t speak to your heart?” Laura leans across the table and ruffles Derek’s hair. “It was adorable. I’m sure mom still has footage of -”

“Shut up, Laura.”

“So,” Stiles says, his hand gripping Derek’s thigh tightly. “What do you do, Laura?”

“I work for the DA’s office in Sacramento,” she says. “But that’s boring, I’m far more interested in you and my brother.”

“Um,” Stiles glances at Derek. “Why?”

“Because it’s like our own little Beacon Hills love story,” Laura waves her wine glass dramatically. “You pined over each other in high school, Derek ran away and almost had his life ruined, he comes back home and there you were the first night he performs. It could be a movie.”

Derek takes the wine glass out of Laura’s hands. “I’m cutting you off.”

“Mean,” Laura pouts.

“No, nice brother who is preventing you from having a hangover tomorrow.”

Stiles watches them bicker back and forth, Derek a solid weight against his side, and savours the warm feeling in his stomach. He takes a swig of his beer and laughs when Derek tells him about the first time Laura got drunk and the subsequent hangover that had her living in the bathroom for an entire day.

When they leave, Laura gives Stiles a hug and whispers, “You’re going to be good for him,” in his ear.

-

Stiles pulls up outside the Hale house and stifles a laugh when Laura has trouble opening the door. Derek shakes his head and gets out, opens the door for her. He ducks his head back in the car, “I’m going to see her in and grab some things.”

“Grab some things?”

“Yeah, dinner with your dad tomorrow night, right? Thought I could stay with you again,” Derek frowns. “If that’s - I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, yes. Of course. I want you around.”

“Good,” Derek kisses Stiles, lingering just long enough for Laura to let out a loud whistle. “And now I have to kill my sister.”

“Try not to make a mess, blood is hard to clean up.”

Derek flashes a grin and grabs Laura by the arm, dragging her into the house.

-

“I don’t know how it’s possible,” Stiles says from his position on the bed, feet on the floor. “But I’m exhausted.”

“It’s Laura, she takes it out of you.”

Stiles sits up and makes grabby hand motions at Derek who walks over and kneels between Stiles’ legs. Derek closes his eyes as Stiles runs his hands through his hair, lets out a satisfied sigh when Stiles lightly presses his fingers against his scalp. “I liked meeting her,” Stiles says.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

Derek inches forward on his knees and presses his face into Stiles’ stomach, his arms finding their way around Stiles’ waist, hands slipping under the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles shivers at the touch of Derek’s rough fingers against his back and curls himself over Derek, his breath ragged and slow. When Derek starts to stroke the skin at Stiles’ lower back, Stiles straightens up and touches Derek’s cheek, hisses when Derek shoves his shirt up and kisses Stiles’ stomach. He sucks a mark next to Stiles’ bellybutton and Stiles laughs, squirming under the ticklish actions.

“I made you a promise earlier,” Derek says quietly, tugging at Stiles’ pants.

“Yeah you did,” Stiles grins, tilting his hips up as Derek gets his hands on Stiles’ zipper, pulls down Stiles’ pants and boxers in one smooth motion. Derek’s eyes fix on Stiles’ cock as Stiles toes his shoes off and tugs his bunched clothing off from around his ankles. He spreads his legs and sits back on the bed, hands behind him, and grins at Derek, raising an eyebrow.

Derek snorts at him and shakes his head, but the hungry look on his face tells Stiles everything he needs to know. He bites his lip as Derek moves closer, grasps Stiles by the hips and pulls until Stiles’ cock is right in Derek’s face. Derek’s licking his lips and there’s a glint in his eyes like he’s going to - ”Oh my God,” Stiles says as Derek’s mouth engulfs him. There’s no teasing, just Derek’s hot, wet mouth around Stiles’ cock and holy shit, Stiles cannot believe he’s this lucky. Derek’s hands are gripping his hips so hard that Stiles looks forward to the bruises he knows he’ll be left with. It’s like Derek’s trying to devour him, and Stiles is beginning to think he’s totally okay with that.

Derek pulls off, one hand leaving Stiles’ hip to smear spit and pre-come down Stiles’ cock. Stiles doesn’t want to stop watching Derek, but he can’t help throwing his head back and groaning when Derek noses at his balls before licking a stripe up Stiles’ cock. When Stiles looks back down again, Derek has his lips wrapped around the head, the suction driving Stiles insane. He fists his hands in the sheets, Derek’s mouth pushing the edge between pleasure and pain, Stiles’ eyes are watering because it’s just so _good_ and he wants, needs to come. Derek grunts around Stiles’ cock as he takes his hands off Stiles’ hips, undoes his jeans and pulls his dick out. Stiles blinks, lets out a mewling noise when Derek lets Stiles’ cock slip from his mouth, flicks his tongue across the head, once, twice and that’s it, Stiles comes across Derek’s face.

He groans when Derek’s tongue darts out, licks at the mess on his face. Stiles tries to regain his breath, leaning forward and watching as Derek fists his cock. Derek’s mouth is open and Stiles can’t resist sealing his mouth over Derek’s, a sloppy, dirty kiss. He can feel his own come rubbing against his face, Derek breathing heavy into his mouth. Stiles runs a hand through Derek’s hair and tugs hard, smiling against Derek’s mouth when Derek swears and spills his release over his fingers.

“Holy shit,” Stiles mutters, his hand still fisted in Derek’s hair, their faces still millimeters away from each other. “We’re good at this.”

Derek laughs, his sticky hand clasping Stiles’ neck, holding him in place as he kisses him again and again until Stiles falls off the bed, pushing them both onto the ground. They lie there until Derek starts grimacing at the feel of drying come on his face and he drags Stiles to the bathroom.

After showering, Stiles strips the bed and puts fresh sheets on before they collapse onto the comfortable mattress. Derek rolls on his side, hair still damp and Stiles shifts behind him, pushing his nose against the nape of Derek’s neck. He places a soft kiss on Derek’s skin and breaths in the scent of Derek’s skin mixed with Stiles’ shower gel. Derek mumbles something that Stiles doesn’t catch, reaches back and pulls Stiles’ arm until it’s resting across Derek’s waist, fingers splayed across Derek’s stomach. Stiles sighs happily and curls closer to Derek, drifting off to sleep.

-

They hit the grocery store in the morning to satisfy Derek’s demands for non-rotting food in Stiles’ apartment. Stiles wrinkles his nose at Derek’s demand for parsnips, telling him with a grin that he may have to reconsider their relationship. Derek rolls his eyes and kisses Stiles in the cereal aisle, pushing him against the boxes of Cap’n Crunch. It’s disgustingly domestic and Stiles can’t bring himself to be worried about moving too fast when Derek’s right there with him, trying to sneak almond milk into the cart because he thinks it’s healthier. Like he thinks he’ll be spending enough time at Stiles’ apartment for it to matter what Stiles has in his fridge. Stiles shakes his head and lets Derek add what he wants to the cart, doesn’t argue when Derek pays for half the groceries and they pick up a pizza to share back at the apartment.

After eating, Stiles settles in on the couch with his laptop, emailing Lydia at MIT and flicking through Reddit. Derek’s on the floor, leaning back against the couch, guitar across his lap with a notebook by his side. Stiles suppresses a smile whenever Derek scribbles things down in his notebook, gets used to the way he’ll pick out some notes on his guitar, linking them together in a way Stiles doesn’t understand, but Derek obviously does.

Stiles glances at the time on his screen and sighs, runs a hand through Derek’s hair. “We should leave soon,” he says quietly.

“Yeah?” Derek tilts his head back to look at Stiles.

“Uh huh,” Stiles swings his legs off the sofa and sits up, closing his laptop. “I’ll pack the bag of food, you finish what you’re doing.”

Derek smiles at Stiles and nods, turns his attention back to his work while Stiles rummages through the fridge, throwing the chicken and various vegetables in a bag. He turns around when the sound of the guitar goes away, watches Derek bend over to put it back in the case, and smirks at Derek when he raises an eyebrow. “We don’t have time for that,” Derek says, sitting on the couch to put his boots on.

“I know,” Stiles sighs, walking over with his sneakers in his hand. “But we’re really, really good at it.”

“Yeah we are,” Derek says, leaning in to kiss Stiles, a warm hand coming up to grasp the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles smiles into the kiss, his sneakers drop to the floor as he brings his hands up to run along Derek’s back. Derek rubs a thumb across Stiles’ cheekbone before pulling back, resting their foreheads together. Stiles widens his eyes and pouts, Derek kisses him quickly before dropping his hands. “Come on, don’t make me late to meet your dad.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and sticks his feet in his sneakers, “You’ve already met him.”

“Not as your boyfriend,” Derek says, shrugging his jacket on. “It’s different.”

“He’ll love you,” Stiles says, standing up and taking Derek’s hand. “He will. Just don’t cheer for the Cowboys.”

-

Stiles walks around the back of the building and climbs the stairs with Derek. He uses his key to let them in and calls out to his dad. It’s still strange to Stiles that his dad lives here instead of the house and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it. It’s not _home_ , it’s just the place his dad lives. They walk through to the main room where his dad has flicked the pre-show on. Stiles drops the bag of food in the kitchen half of the open plan room and grabs three beers from the fridge, popping the tops. He hands them over to his dad and Derek and sits on the couch, tugging at Derek’s hand until he joins him.

“Derek, nice to see you again,” John says.

“You too, sir.”

Stiles stifles a smile by swigging his beer. He knows full well that Derek was happy calling his dad, John, last night, but it’s cute he’s making an effort. Judging by the look on his dad’s face, he’s suitably impressed.

“You’re here to eat, call me John.”

Derek nods, turning his attention to the television. “Giants fan?” he asks.

“Yeah. Stiles’ mom was a fan, we met in college, she converted me.”

Stiles smiles and glances at the photo on the bookcase of his mom wearing an L.T. jersey, massive smile on her face, taken at a 1990 Superbowl party. He loves that his mom never gave up her hometown teams, she’s the reason he’s a Mets fan, the reason his dad cheers on the Giants each football season. Stiles taps Derek on the knee, “You helping me cook?”

Derek nods and follows him into the kitchen. They make quick work of peeling and chopping and Stiles throws it all in the oven. He wriggles his way under Derek’s arm when they get back on the couch and settles into the familiar noise of his dad arguing with the talking heads on the television. Stiles soaks in the heat of Derek’s body against him, the way Derek picks up the conversation with his dad easily. It comforts Stiles, how immediately his dad accepts Derek, how well Derek fits in with their regular routine. He drifts off a little, Derek’s arm over his shoulder, his head resting on Derek’s chest and jumps when the timer goes off.

Stiles shakes off Derek’s arm and stretches, yawning as he walks over and dishes out the food. He puts the plates on trays and hands them over to his dad and Derek, goes back into the kitchen to grab his food and some more beers for them, soda for him.

“I can drive if you want to drink,” Derek says when he notices that Stiles has a soda.

“No, I’m good,” Stiles says. “Unless you don’t want to drink?”

Derek presses his side against Stiles and shakes his head, taking a bite of his chicken. Stiles smiles and looks up, his dad has been watching their exchange with interest but quickly turns his head back to the television when he catches Stiles’ eye.

The evening soon falls into Stiles’ dad yelling at the television, cursing whenever Eli fails to complete a pass. There’s a pile of plates and beer bottles on the table and Stiles is slowly dozing off next to Derek. Despite his mom’s love of the Giants, Stiles has never been much of a football fan. Come baseball season, he’ll be facepalming at the Mets with his dad, but all football does is make him sleepy. Derek’s got an arm around him, fingers gently stroking the bare skin beneath the sleeve of Stiles’ t shirt. Stiles grunts and twists around, flops his head in Derek’s lap and closes his eyes as Derek laughs quietly.

Stiles is jerked out of sleep by Derek tapping him on the chest. He yawns and blinks sleepily up at Derek. “Hi,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Football still as exciting as ever for you, kid?” John calls over.

“Sorry dad,” Stiles grins, scrambling into a sitting position. “Catch me when it’s baseball season.”

“That’s okay, gave me and Derek a chance to talk.”

Stiles looks at Derek, “And you’re still here?”

“The keys to the car are in your pocket,” Derek says. “And your dad told me an interesting story about you wanting to be Pete Wentz when you were thirteen.”

“Uh,” Stiles’ cheeks flush and he glares at his dad. “Seriously, dad? Seriously? Why do you hate me?”

John laughs, “I seem to remember that being one of your favourite phrases when you were thirteen.”

“Ugh,” Stiles groans, burying his face in his hands. “Worst dad ever.”

Derek shuffles closer to him and nudges him with his shoulder, “Less embarrassing than being made to dance to N’Sync with your sister.”

Stiles nods slowly, “True. That’s true.”

-

Derek crashes out on Stiles’ couch and looks up at him, “I have to go home at some point.”

“I know,” Stiles says, climbing on top of him. He stretches out and rests his head on Derek’s chest. “I don’t want you to go,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s shirt.

“I don’t want to go,” Derek says quietly. He wraps his arms around Stiles and holds him close. “You working tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come by the bar.”

“You’ll distract me.”

“Good. You distract me. Which is why I have to go home.”

“Need to write a hit song for someone?” Stiles grins.

Derek laughs, “Maybe.”

Stiles wriggles on top of Derek and sits up, Derek’s hands falling to Stiles’ hips. “You really do need to go, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, squeezing Stiles’ hips. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“I know,” Stiles says simply. “Stay tomorrow night?”

“You want me to?”

“What part of ‘I don’t want you to go’ did you not understand, Derek? If it wasn’t totally insane I’d want you here all the time, want you to -”

Derek surges up and kisses Stiles, his hands threading through Stiles’ hair. Stiles gasps into Derek’s mouth and falls backwards, pulling Derek with him until he’s got Derek’s body on him, a heavy, satisfying weight. Each time Derek kisses him, Stiles feels his spine melting into the couch. He gropes at Derek’s body, wanting Derek to bruise him, wanting to feel him after he leaves. They ease off, exchanging soft, slow kisses. Derek’s the first one to sit up, he cups Stiles’ face in his hands and kisses him chastely. Stiles licks his lips and pouts when Derek gets off the couch.

“Don’t do that,” Derek says with a wry smile.

“Do what?” Stiles smirks.

“You know what.”

Stiles sighs and watches Derek disappear into the bedroom, coming out a few minutes later with his belongings. Derek slips his notebook into the front of his guitar case and looks around. He ducks down and kisses Stiles quickly before straightening up, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers. He watches Derek walk out the door and closes his eyes, tries not to think about how empty the apartment seems without Derek there. The rest of the evening is a blur to Stiles, he washes up, gets undressed and crawls into bed. The sheets still smell like Derek, still smell like _him &Derek_, he presses his face into the pillow and breathes deeply.

-

He wakes up the next morning in the same position. Stiles’ phone buzzes, he reaches out and grabs it, rolling onto his back to read the text.

 _Slept like crap. I miss you. D._.

Stiles smiles dopily, a warmth spreading through him. He hits the call button, his smile growing when Derek answers sleepily.

“Hi,” Stiles says. “I miss you too.” He stretches luxuriously as Derek tells him that he’s been up half the night working on a song, laughs when Derek almost falls asleep during the phonecall.

“I do miss you,” Derek says. “I wish -” he breaks off.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Two months, okay?”

“Two months until what?”

“If - when - we’ve been together for two months, move in with me,” Stiles twists his fingers in his sheets as he waits for Derek’s response.

“Okay.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I think you’re totally insane,” Derek says. “But I hate the idea of living in the same town with you again and not being with you all the time.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes.”

Stiles fistpumps the air and laughs delightedly. “I really wish you were here right now so I could jump you.”

“I’m dating a romantic,” Derek yawns.

“Hell yeah, you are,” Stiles says. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles tells Derek to sleep again and ends the call. He slumps back down in bed and sets his alarm for a few hours away, falling asleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

-

_Two months later_

Stiles carries a box of Derek’s notebooks through the door and puts it in the corner with Derek’s other belongings. Derek follows him with two guitars slung over his shoulder, he rests them against the couch and turns to Stiles with a tiny smile on his face. They stand in the middle of the room, staring at each other. Stiles starts to laugh, and it doesn’t take long before Derek joins him, tugging Stiles down onto the floor with him, Stiles smiles at Derek, curls into him, tilting his head as Derek leans in. Derek cups Stiles’ face with both hands, kissing him softly. Stiles nips at Derek’s bottom lip, grins when Derek opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

“Scott thinks we’re insane,” he mumbles when they part to breathe. “Doing this so quickly.”

“I’ve wanted you since I was 16,” Derek says, his lips brushing against Stiles’. “This is slow.”

“That’s what I told him,” Stiles says, pulling at Derek’s arms until Derek’s on top of him, pressing him into the carpet.

“What else did you tell him?” Derek asks, his forearms bracketing Stiles’ head.

“That I love you.”

“Yeah?” Derek says, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.”

Stiles runs a hand up Derek’s back and presses his fingers against the base of Derek’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. “I love you,” he says when he lets Derek go. “And I’m so fucking happy you moved back home.”

Derek kisses the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “You’re home, Stiles. You’re my home.”


End file.
